Joseph Orton (22-11-1994 / England)
To A Time That Will Never Happen, and To Someone That Never Will Be
I miss the lies.
I miss the uncontrollable reaction of putting on my disguise.
I miss the silent judgements running through your head.
I miss the fact that you promised all those nasty things you said.
I miss the pain.
I miss your voice when my hearts pouring bloody rain.
I miss the way you would scream at me.
I miss the cowering and wanting to be free.
I miss not being the reason for your hatred.
I miss knowing that you’ll still be slicing me in when I’m asleep in bed.
I miss the tragedy within your eyes.
I miss the constant stabbing in my thighs.
I miss how you would starve me from my every need.
I miss how you constantly wanted to plant your seed.
I miss the reaction to crying alone.
I miss the thought of being too scared to come home.
I miss running away.
I miss how you would always beg me to stay.
I miss the punishment of behaviour.
I miss how you would kill me, and then act like my saviour.
I miss the rotting of the wooden self-made coffin tomb.
I miss the sweet scent of gloom.
I miss the fact you always visit me here.
I miss the fact that I can never just disappear.
I miss nothing of importance to you anymore.
I only miss the fact that I was once your number one whore.
Comments about this poem (To A Time That Will Never Happen, and To Someone That Never Will Be by Joseph Orton )
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